


Moments Under a Desert Sun

by privatemumbles



Category: Team Fortress 2
Genre: Found Family, Mentally Ill Character, Multi, Nonbinary Character, There's a few other assorted ships, also: a large amount of me making fun of spy and sniper, but its there for sures, everyone is gay and sad until they meet their murder family, heavy/medic isnt that big of a ship sorry rip, i should write miss p in sometime, im weak as hell for that, more then one of those Oh For Sure, other ships mentioned: engie/demo demo/soldier demo/pyro spy/oc sniper/his own gross piss van, there is an egregious amount of that, transgender character, uhhh fuck what else is there
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-01
Updated: 2017-06-19
Packaged: 2018-11-07 20:40:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,383
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11066706
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/privatemumbles/pseuds/privatemumbles
Summary: A few short bits I wrote about tf2, and a few chapters from 2014 or so when I used to be waaay big into tf2, which my friends got me back into. Will rarely connect,will update sporadically.





	1. Morning Rituals

**Author's Note:**

> Okay so! Only a few things to mention. These apply to all chapters
> 
> Soldier and Scout are both Trans Women
> 
> Pyro and Engineer are both Nonbinary, but only Pyro uses They/Them pronouns
> 
> And for this chapter, this is one of 3 chapters I wrote while in a moving vehicle in another country, and tired of sitting on my ass in a car, promptly texted to my friends as I slowly melted from boredom.
> 
> In This chapter, everyone is mentioned at least once, but the focus is on Tavish.

"So you're telling me that a goat milked a cow for this?"

"No Jane. The milk comes from the goat."

"Oh."

Tavish finished whipping together the pancake mix in the bowl, and put it down on the counter. “Do y’know where Misha put the oil? I need it so these don’t stick to the pan.”

From the table where Jane was cutting the rarely obtained fruit in the Badlands (with a pick axe. Jane was nothing if not Innovative.) she spoke up “I think he’s trying to cook something for Medic. Will car oil work instead? I know where Dell and Mick hide theirs. The raccoons found it the other day. 

Tavish made a face at her, and put the whisk in the sink. “Jane, that’d be disgusting, and the worst way to us that oil. You’re usually better at cooking then that.” 

She shrugged, and scooped the fruit into a bowl. "You never know what you might cook if you only try, Tavish. That’s how I figured out the recipe for the 'Blue Busters Breakfast'(a team favorite) and "Lieutenant Bites Favorite Treat'."(a team least favorite) This only prompted another gross out face from Tavish.

"I don' care how much experimentation you do, it still won't taste good Jane." Jane made a face right back at him as he sighed, looking at the ungreased pan. He really hated to use butter on this when they only got a few patties of it in food deliveries. "I'm gonna go get that oil from Misha. We can't have pancakes if they just stick to the pan."

Jane nodded and slipped a piece of fruit under the table. Tavish might not have noticed if he didn't hear a distinct munching sound and a soft chitter underneath. Oh well, they could sacrifice one apple slice to Sergeant Nibbles.

On the way to the infirmary, he heard a kerfuffle happening from the bathroom.

"Spy, you keep goin' way past your water limit for these showers! Just do a rinse once in a while for gods sake!"

A conceited huff coming from the bathroom was all it took for Tavish to walk just a bit faster, both to avoid overhearing this argument, and to avoid being pulled into it. Dell and Spys arguments were just more background noise for the teams morning ritual, and while the brawls that would sometimes errupt from them were plenty fun, Tavish could feel his stomach growl. (Or as Pyros favorite books would put it, a rumbly tumbly from his belly. He'd never admit he thought of Pyros cute books and rhymes in these small events.) They could all rumble another day.

The next noise was not usually part of the morning ritual. Well, that was a lie, it definitely was on the days Misha cooked breakfast, but it didn't usually come from the infirmary. The doors were open, and there was a Russian song drifting out in hushed tones.

Tavish peeked inside, and saw Misha using a small portable stove to cook something in a pot. Whatever it was, Tavish would admit, smelled awful. But at the same time, he knew that it was delicious, and not just because it was made with love. The man knew how to cook with very few ingredients. Medic sat on one of his surgery beds, watching Misha with a small smile on his face.

"I uh, hope I'm not interrupting anything, but d'ya have the oil in here?" Tavish said awkwardly, walking into the infirmary. Misha looked up, and smiled at Tavish. Medic looked up, realized what Tavish had seen, blushed, and looked back down. 

"Here, I am done with the oil. What is Tavish making this morning?" Misha said, handing the bottle over to Tavish, who accepted it.

"Pancakes. If you two want, there'll be a lot left over in the kitchen." Tavish coughed once nervously, and smiled before exiting fast. Though her never saw him, Tavish knew Medic was grateful.

On his way down back to the kitchen oil in hand, something sped past him in a blur, hooting and laughing. Soon after, Mick Mundy tried to squeeze in past Tavish, running after the blur with one outstretched hand, and one hand on his bare head. "SCOUT! Get th' hell back here with my hat!" Tavish grinned.

"RUN LASS! Snipers hot on yer trail!" he called out to her. Scout looked back, Micks hat on her head, and she saluted at Tavish with a crooked grin before dodging a grab from Mick. She whooped out loud before continuing her escape from the Sniper, who consequently stamped his foot down in rage.

If he still had his hat, he might've thrown it down instead which would be a crying shame for that poor hat.

"Tavish! Do not encourage her!" he said angrily to Tavish, who smirked and shrugged at Mick. "Jus' doing my part to help the team bond, Mickey." Mick looked like he was going to say something else to Tavish, but he was interrupted by Scout circling back, and smacking the back of Micks head with-- was that Spys shaving cream? Ohhh boy. Tavish escaped quickly, hearing the angry yells of Spy and Mick as the chase continued.

Tavish made a mental note to save Scout extra pancakes once he was done cooking.

Once he finally made it back to the kitchen, he found Jane and some new friends at the table. Dell and Pyro had showed up, with Dell angrily drinking a cup of some incredibly black coffee, and Pyro sipping hot chocolate out of a curly straw and a Minnie Mouse mug through their mask.

"Mornin' you two. I see that you've been busy Dell." Tavish said with a knowing tone. Dell grumbled, and downed the rest of his mug.

"Spy can kiss my ass."

Pyro murmured in agreement, and Jane laughed in agreement. "Ol' Frenchies being difficult! But since Tavish is back, pancakes take presidence over making fun of Spy, which will be resumed after breakfast." She said happily. Pyro nodded in agreement. No talking was to be done until Hot Choccolate was all gone, they said Minnie had declared long ago.

"Alright, alright, Pancakes for a buncha loafers comin' up!" Jane cheered, and slipped down another piece of fruit under the table. If you listened carefully, one could also hear the various animals staying in her clothing cheer too.

Around 5 minutes later, Pyro was tying a napkin around Janes neck, a bib similar to the one around their own. Jane smiled, and patted Pyro on the head. "Good job Private Mumbles! Your knot form is impeccable." Pyro crooned, and patted Jane on the head back. 

Tavish put three fluffy pancakes each onto their plates, and as Scout bounded in, he put 4 on hers as she tilted Micks hat on her head up to look at Tavish. "Am I just lucky for breakfast today, or are you rewardin' me for makin' trouble?" she said with a grin.

Tavish sat down at his own place at the table, and smiled back. "A lil' trouble every morn doesn't hurt a soul. I'd even say it does a body good!" Pyro had already broken out a can of whipped cream (no one ever knew where they got that) and sprinkles (that neither), and proceeded to cover their pancakes in all toppings on the table.

Dell lightened up as he took some fruit and Pyros sprinkles for his pancakes, and Jane was already cutting hers up into small bites for her racoons. Scout elected to bite into them with wild abandon and then taking a can of whipped cream and spraying it into her mouth with the pancake.

The demolitions expert put a pat of butter on his pancakes, and spread fruit and syrup all over them. He allowed the 'luxury' of Pyros sprinkles, the owner of which clapped when Tavish relented for the sweet success of sprinkles. All around the table, the mercenaries talked with mouths full and laughed and ate. It was like they were family.

Tavish smiled, and took a bite. It tasted like home.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pyro got problems. At least people are willing to help them through those.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pyro's got severe memory problems, but Engie n Heavy know how to help them through it the best out of anyone.
> 
> Pyro also really hates the wet, for obvious reasons.

Pyro is quiet, very quiet.  
This has never been unusual. Dell and Misha appreciate the silence of their masked friend while they worked. Pyro spoke up only when they wanted to, and everyone knew that. An almost sort of music was composed in this room, made out of silence and soft beeps of motion tracking, bullet casings being put away, the squeak of polish, a delicate clink of metal against metal, background dins of the rare rainstorm plainking on the tin roof, and the constant sound of a lighter snapping open and being closed.

There was no sound of a lighter being used that evening.

Misha glanced at Pyro, sitting on the ground in their usual corner in the garage. Huddled up, knees to their mask, Pyros body seemed to be trying to curl in on itself. There wasn't any noise, or familiar whining when their lighter wouldn't work, followed by Pyro bouncing up and over to Dell so he could fix the beloved object. If Pyro wasn't playing with a crayon or the lighter, they would hum, or bounce, shaking their hands to give themself a calmness once the enwrgy was out. The lack of all those set off alarm bells in Mishas mind, and he leaned forward over his gun. The usual shaking accompanying a worse attack on Pyros mind was absent. Which meant this was something worse.

Standing up from his stool where he polished his gun, (He left her halfway done. There was something more important at the moment) Misha crouched next to Pyro, and gently extended a palm to them. No movement, to either swat him away, or to grab onto his comforting grip. (While Misha had the hands able to snap a mans neck in seconds, these were also hands that held his baby sisters with such kindness that Zhanna had fallen asleep as they made their escape from prison. Pyro found this same comfort often)

Pyro was very still. Very quiet. And when Misha tilted their head up, he could see through the tinted glass of their mask that their eyes were boreing a line right through him, focusing and unfocusing. Shit.

"Dell. Pyro is not doing well."

Dell looked up from his work at the two of them, cocking his head at the unusual sight. "What, did Pyro fall asleep? If so, you can carry them back up to their room. I have been noticin' that our firebug wasn't gettin' enough rest lately. Doc was gettin' real antsy about it."

Upon looking a little closer, Dell understood. Fewer words always benefited with Misha, and even more with Pyro. Sliding off his seat, Dell slid off one of Pyros gloves, and touched their wrist with a warm hand.

"Their hearts beatin' crazy fast. Aw, hell. C'mon Misha, we have to get them to Medic before this gets worse."

Compliant, Misha lifted Pyro up and held them close to his chest. "Relax now, little friend. It is a time to be quiet, and you are doing very well." 

Dell and Misha walked briskly upstairs to Medics infirmary to get Pyro ready for an examination. The whole way up Pyro never made a sound or even moved, except for their eyes. Whatever was happening, it sent a twinge of fear through both of them. Perhaps they were getting soft- that was an understatement. After joining possibly the goriest and most dangerous job of their lives, all that the two killers had done was get soft as they had spent time with this ragtag group. Respawn was a preferred last ditch effort to cure what ailed the Mercenaries, and it was still unsure if it could help with an ongoing problem that rose its ugly head up and again like Pyros. Hopefully Medic would deduce what was wrong this time, and things would be over soon. Misha couldn't bear the thought of losing another family member, even if that threat seemed so unsure. If Pyro turned out fine every other time, this should be fine now as well, right?

It was just their goddamn luck that the good doctor wasn't in.

Dell banged on the infirmary doors in anger as soon as he finished reading the scrawled german note on the door. "Doc fuckin' left to go get pills. And some kinda toy for his dove. Great timing Medic. Real damn classy." 

Misha sighed, and hoisted Pyro up a little further. "We must get Pyro help, Engineer. This time, they are much worse." Without another word needed from Misha, Dell took off his own glove and slipped his Gunslinger hand into the crack between the door. Prying it open, he ushered Misha in fast.

"Lay 'em down, Misha. I'm no medical expert, but hell if I don't know a little about fixing things. I'll get them to a stable state while we wait for Medic to get back to us." Misha nodded, and gently lay Pyro down on the cleanest medical bed. (That wasn't saying much. Thankfully Pyro didn't mind getting their suit dirty.) While Dell cracked open several medicine cabinets, looking for what he needed, (and being bombarded by doves more then once while swearing something fowl) Misha propped up Pyros head with a pillow, and clasped their hands in one of his own. They felt clammy, and cold. Quiet Russian murmurings left his tongue, the ones he had taught Pyro before. A rhyme for children, it was the most comforting thing to Pyro that was available at the moment.

A triumphant clunk of a box full of pills, syringes, and IVs signalled that Dell was ready. "Keep them steady, big guy. I'll get them stable faster then two shakes of a lambs tale." In a single moment, Misha was allowed the thought 'American analogies are really fucking stupid sounding.'

He let go of one of Pyros hands, which Dell grasped. "There we go. Now I'm just gonna let this syringe into your wrist. It'll only sting for a second Py." Dell inched the syringe closer, when it was then promptly knocked out of hands.

"What the he-" the Engineer was promptly interrupted by a loud, incredibly pained and muffled whine, and a fist to the chest that knocked him back a bit. Pyro certainly was no longer silent.

They thrashed on the bed, crying because of pain that the others could not sense. Misha tried to hold his friend down, but Pyro used his surprise to wriggle out of his grasp and promptly fall onto the linoleum floor. Dell made a sudden grab for them, but Pyro scrambled out of the way, making for the doors of the infirmary. "PYRO, NO!" Misha and Dell yelled at the same time, charging after their masked friend.

It was easy to follow them. All it took was a soft muffled crying and the squeaking foot steps of boots that had been left in the rain too long. And then the sound of the back door opening, and mud underneath heavy boots.

"Shit, they went out in the rain?! We gotta stop them before they get sick or fall down out there!" Dell yelled as they got to the door, watching Pyro make a break for it. Misha placed a hand on his chest, and shook his head. "Wait. They will be scared if we are coming now." Impatience was wired all down Dells face, but he yielded. Misha was just as likely to pick him up if he did try and go.

Soon enough, Dell saw Pyro drop to their knees a half a mile away, wrestling with their mask. Misha already had an umbrella (that was his size. Nothing smaller covered enough of him.) and offered a hand to Dell. Dell took it, and the two of them went out to Pyro.

The mask was still on their face, despite the intense wrestling match Pyro was having with it. By the time their friends arrived, Pyro had slumped on the ground, and had begun to whine through their mask. Misha helped them to get up, and held the umbrella over all three of them. "We go together." he said plainly as Dell supported Pyro with his shoulder.

Once the trio was back inside, the two men had already wiped the mud off Pyros suit. Wrapped them in that unicorn blanket of theirs. And placed them firmly in front of the teams fireplace. And there they sat. And they made noise. A quiet, breathy sigh muffled by plastic was all it took to show that Pyro had something on their mind.

Misha sat on the ground next to them, while Dell took the couch. "If Pyro does not want to talk about it. Pyro never has to." they nodded. They had heard that many times already. Pointing their muzzle at Misha, they cocked their head to the side, pondering something.

Pyro lifted up the edges of their mask, and huddled even further beneath the blanket. A raspy voice said quietly "It wasn't th' usual this time. It was new." they added thoughtfully. "I think. I remembered something."

Dell leaned forward, his interest peaked. "And what was that, firebug?" he asked.

"I have no idea. But it was this lady, in this field. Of, wheat I think? She might've been my mom, but it’s just a hunch. Like, you know how that all works by now. It could be a key, or I could be remembering an infomercial. S’all related or something, or maybe not. What it did was mostly get me all wet and gross." Dell nodded thoughtfully. Misha glanced at them both.

"If you remember more, it is good for you. If you do not, Pyro will always have stinky old man team." Misha added helpfully. Pyro snorted, and pulled their mask back down before leaning against Misha.

It was confusing, and hard putting the puzzle pieces back together, after they had been shattered so many times. But they could do it. Together.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Todays chapter is the only stuff I can find from when I used to write TF2 all the time, and you can see my clear, still present bias for Demoman and Pyro, my favs, and also otp. it's pretty short, but It wouldn't be right to post them on their own, and I hate to leave them languishing in my documents alone forever, so I figured I'd post them! Enjoy!

UNNAMED

It was going to be a modern fic about Pyro, Demoman, and eventually Soldier too raising some baby

Tavish was used to Pyro bringing home strays like cats, dogs, birds, even a hobo once who they had sent on their way after giving him someplace to sleep for the night. Same with all the stray pets, they sent them home or found them a home. He had not been expecting them to bring home something else entirely. Tavish stared in quiet contemplation at the box in their hands, which he had thought at first was another litter of kittens. Instead, there was a bundle of cloth and a baby crying loudly, drenched from the rain outside. They closed the door with a bang, and took the baby out of the box roughly, cooing sadly as it continued to cry. He walked over to Pyro, unsure if he was allowed to hold it or not, until Pyro shoved it into his hands, clearly nervous about the infant in their arms. “Pyro did you- steal this baby?” Pyro shook rapidly, and sputtered upset noises. They backed off, and Tavish looked down at the child who continued to cry in his face, snot running everywhere. “Alright, we have to start somewhere. You’re both all wet.” Pyro nodded gingerly, water dripping off of their rain coat. “So, lets get everyone dry before we talk about this.” Pyro started to remove the wet clothing on themself, and Tavish grabbed some towels to dry off the baby.

Willful Fire Setting

This was going to be an origins fic about the Red team! Who i also have a bias for

It was raining again, as it ordinarily did when spring just started to roll around in the outlands of Scotland. Tavish was taking the late bus home that night after another night shift, staring out the window at the dark and dreary landscape. His finger tapped on the window pane lazily, and he was starting to fall asleep on the bus until he jolted awake as the bus stopped. He nearly stood up until he noticed this was not his stop. It was the one right before it, if you counted “Right before it” as “Several miles away from his Bus Stop”. Someone in a large bulky rain coat got on board, holding - was that a chello? Whatever it was, the stranger was lugging it along in a large strapped backpack along with another bag in their hands, which hit the floor with a loud thump when they placed it down as they sat near the back of the bus. Tavish couldn’t see their face as they boarded, which seemed to be concealed in the dark hood of their rain coat. 

Once the bus started to run again, Tavish felt a jolt come up his spine, as if the stranger was staring at the back of his head. he didn’t dare to look behind, fearing what this stranger could be. Tavish stuffed his hand in his pockets, as fiddling about with a few wires he kept in there calmed his nerves, but alongside the tangled ball of wiring there was a folded piece of paper. He took it out slowly, and looked up into one of the bus drivers rear view mirrors at the faceless stranger. They were sitting quite still, one arm wrapped around the large pack to keep it from falling over, and the other fist clenched, though he wasn’t sure there was anything residing inside of it. Tavish held the paper up, unfolded it, and read what had been written on the inside.

‘Hello Mr. Tavish DeGroot. If you are reading this, then a representative of Reliable Excavations and Demolitions has been able to deliver you this message. We have reviewed your background, and we believe there is possibly an opening for someone with your expertise on one of our finest Demolition Teams. We will contact you with further information. - R.E.D’

He read the note over again, slowly registering what this note meant. R.E.D was a largely American based corporation, but if you had ever been involved in any sort of contract on a higher level you knew it had its fingers dug deep into every corner of the economy. Tavish had had to deal with them multiple times when he had been employed by a smaller demolition company, but that had been years ago when he was fresh out of college. This was different. Tavish dared to look over his shoulder at the stranger, the one who must have been the one to slip the note in his pocket. Nothing was revealed in the pool of darkness covering their face in the dimly lit back seat of the bus, and he could swear he saw light glinting. Tavish turned his attention back to the paper, wondering what sort of job these people wanted him to do. 

When the bus stopped next, Tavish stepped of the back way, and looked back pointedly at the stranger, who turned to watch him step off, the first movement he had seen them make since they sat down. Wet smoke laced the ground from the bus’s exhaust pipe, and it trudged away towards the last stop on the line. Mud spattered his boots, and Tavish walked down a long muddy pathway on his way through the town of Dalkeith to the intimidating castle on a hill in the distance. Any other day Tavish would have stopped at the local bar but this was a pressing matter that strained his mind. The large doors to his home swung open, and he could hear a fire going. “Mum? I’m home now. Are you still awake?” There was a swift crack, and Tavish nearly swore in pain. “MOM. Why in the world did you do that?!” His blind old mother leaned on her cane towards her son, and scoffed. “Your knees are bending too easily Tavish! In order to keep good paying jobs like yours, you’re going to have to eat more. You’re just lucky I kept dinner warm on the stove for you.” Mrs.DeGroot walked past Tavish into the parlor muttering, and sat next to the fire. Tavish sighed, and went into the kitchen. True to her word, there were some sausages keeping warm in a pan, and some vegetables on a plate. As he ate, he wondered what to do about the whole R.E.D situation. They were going to get back to him, but at what point? What time? The day was late and he had to return on the same path back to his job again in the morning, so Tavish attempted to retire to to his room and fall asleep and lay awake in bed for an hour. And then an hour. And then more. He couldn’t get the underlying feeling in his stomach that something was going to happen to his family. Thats why he was only half as surprised when the light flickered to life and there were two figures with dark trench coats and wide brimmed hats obscuring their eyes.

“Wha-”

“We’re here to offer you a job, Mr.Degroot.” The smaller one said, breaking the quiet pause. Another voice emanated from the taller one, staticy and loud. “Your family has been employed by R.E.D multiple times in the past. Your own parents could attest to that if they weren’t signed to a life long contract of silence.” Tavish stood out of bed, and looked the pair up and down. “What kind of job are you talking about here?” “Demolitions of course.” He grimaced at them, and said “I haven’t had a demolitions contract in years. And this sort of application, coming to my doorstep to ask me to help? It isn’t convincing me any.” The taller one stepped forward, speaking “You see Mr. DeGroot, this isn’t so much an offer” The tall man flung open his trench coat, letting a bright light flash.Tavish recoiled away from him, looking up again to see that the light had come from a small television that looked as if were implanted into the tall mans torso. A sour looking woman stared at him on the screen, “as it is a command.”


End file.
